chapter2
by XxXGaaraGurlXxX
Summary: ..
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

**Glass Roses**

Tragedy.

Tragic.

Such small words to describe such a horrific- is that the word, horrific?- events. Events such as these gnaw continuously at our bones, begging us to end the suffering and pain from the outcome of the event, whatever that event is. And we can't seem to aid that feeling of giving up because something deep inside us wont allow it; something inside us says keep on moving you'll get through this.

But then, these are all lies.

How can we get through it?

How can we breathe when we know that somehow through our own selfish actions we have caused someone we love to get hurt or even die?

How can we even look at ourselves in the mirror as we go to sleep alone, and know that we are alone because of our own actions?

It seems to me that when tragedy strikes, that moment is what defines us, whether we are weak, strong, both, or neither. These are the moments that create the false realizations that we call ourselves.

But then what are we?

We are what destroy everything our finger touches.

We are what kill the very creature that has brought us up and nourished our bodies.

We are what kill each other, our own brothers for either land and money or sport.

So then what is I?

I is the individual that stands by and does nothing as her team mates fall to the ground.

I is the individual who wants so badly what isn't hers and isn't satisfied when she gets something just as good maybe even better.

I is the individual who only thinks about herself and what she needs and no one else.

I is what happens when society forgets that we are all one and therefore cares nothing for the other.

I is the possessive pronoun that symbolizes all the selfish desires of the world.

So then is it possible for us to be weak and strong or to be neither?

I can't say for sure.

I can't say a lot of things for sure.

Does that surprise you?

Well, it shouldn't. I never said I knew everything about the world; I just observe my surroundings very carefully so that I may understand my fellow man. As I was saying, I can't be sure of a lot of things, such as why people become jealous and kill each other. I can't be sure why people cry or die or anything like that.

Is that what you want to know?

No, you want to know why I'm this way isn't that correct?

You want me to write down my thoughts and feelings so that you can examine them, isn't that it?

So you can tell me what I'm doing wrong; so you can tell me the "errors" of my ways.

But why?

Why are my ways the wrong ways?

Isn't it possible that your ways are the ways that are incorrect?

Why am I force to be fixed and take the blame of what happened when no one else ever does?

And can feelings even have errors?

I don't know. Are you ready to hear my story now?

I suppose you do, that's why you wanted me here, right?

So you can fix me, but then I'm not broken so there's nothing for you to fix- all right, I'll start from the beginning; the night of our last mission together as friends, as companions, and as team mates. The night he betrayed us and went to the other side for power. The night it all started…


	2. Chapter 2

**Prologue:**

**Glass Roses**

Tragedy.

Tragic.

Such small words to describe such a horrific- is that the word, horrific?- events. Events such as these gnaw continuously at our bones, begging us to end the suffering and pain from the outcome of the event, whatever that event is. And we can't seem to aid that feeling of giving up because something deep inside us wont allow it; something inside us says keep on moving you'll get through this.

But then, these are all lies.

How can we get through it?

How can we breathe when we know that somehow through our own selfish actions we have caused someone we love to get hurt or even die?

How can we even look at ourselves in the mirror as we go to sleep alone, and know that we are alone because of our own actions?

It seems to me that when tragedy strikes, that moment is what defines us, whether we are weak, strong, both, or neither. These are the moments that create the false realizations that we call ourselves.

But then what are we?

We are what destroy everything our finger touches.

We are what kill the very creature that has brought us up and nourished our bodies.

We are what kill each other, our own brothers for either land and money or sport.

So then what is I?

I is the individual that stands by and does nothing as her team mates fall to the ground.

I is the individual who wants so badly what isn't hers and isn't satisfied when she gets something just as good maybe even better.

I is the individual who only thinks about herself and what she needs and no one else.

I is what happens when society forgets that we are all one and therefore cares nothing for the other.

I is the possessive pronoun that symbolizes all the selfish desires of the world.

So then is it possible for us to be weak and strong or to be neither?

I can't say for sure.

I can't say a lot of things for sure.

Does that surprise you?

Well, it shouldn't. I never said I knew everything about the world; I just observe my surroundings very carefully so that I may understand my fellow man. As I was saying, I can't be sure of a lot of things, such as why people become jealous and kill each other. I can't be sure why people cry or die or anything like that.

Is that what you want to know?

No, you want to know why I'm this way isn't that correct?

You want me to write down my thoughts and feelings so that you can examine them, isn't that it?

So you can tell me what I'm doing wrong; so you can tell me the "errors" of my ways.

But why?

Why are my ways the wrong ways?

Isn't it possible that your ways are the ways that are incorrect?

Why am I force to be fixed and take the blame of what happened when no one else ever does?

And can feelings even have errors?

I don't know. Are you ready to hear my story now?

I suppose you do, that's why you wanted me here, right?

So you can fix me, but then I'm not broken so there's nothing for you to fix- all right, I'll start from the beginning; the night of our last mission together as friends, as companions, and as team mates. The night he betrayed us and went to the other side for power. The night it all started…


End file.
